


everybody sails alone

by Cerberusia



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Break Up, Break up sex, First Time, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 02:06:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5316188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerberusia/pseuds/Cerberusia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Thomas had accepted the Duke's suggestion to stay - just long enough for break-up sex, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	everybody sails alone

"You know, my mother's always telling me _Never put anything in writing_. And now, thanks to you, I never shall again." The packet of letters burns merrily in the grate while Thomas bares his teeth at Philip in impotent rage.

"How did you get that?" he demands. "You _bastard_." Well, this is an unpleasant end to an evening that began with such considerable erotic promise.

"Don't be a bad loser, Thomas," he says, knowing that his patronising tone will only upset Thomas further. True to form, Thomas only sneers at him, straightening his livery. His hair is in his eyes, and he looks fetchingly dishevelled - it seems a shame to let him go just like that. Hadn't they had a good time together? He catches Thomas by the wrist before he can make for the door and reels him in. Thomas yanks his arm away, but is caught in Philip's arms and drawn into a kiss.

Thomas fights him, of course, but when Philip looks him full in the face and leans up again, face full of desire, Thomas seizes him by the lapels of his dressing-gown and crushes their mouths together. He is only young - ten years younger than Philip himself - it's to be expected. Philip kisses him back with passion, and starts unbuttoning his waistcoat.

Thomas manages to fight his way out of his shirt without detaching from Philip, though the undershirt necessitates a brief separation while Philip works at his belt. Thomas bites distractedly at his mouth, and Philip sucks his bottom lip the way he knows Thomas likes. Philip pulls down Thomas' underwear at the same time as Thomas unbelts his robe and pushes it off his shoulders.

Thomas continues to kiss him brutally, winding a hand through his hair and tugging at it. Philip returns the kiss with open-mouthed ardour, sets his blunt fingernails against the smooth skin of Thomas' back, and drags them down.

Thomas breaks the kiss to cry out. Philip grins and does it again. Thomas gasps, and Philip feels his erection rub against his hip. He pushes him away briefly, holding him at arm's length to get a proper look at him.

Philip has only seen Thomas naked once before, during their 'few weeks of madness', and then in the poor lighting of a room at one of the clubs for men of their sort. The shadows had obscured then revealed tantalising hints of what is now bared to the warm lamp-light. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs - and a surprising amount of hair, not that Philip can talk. Philip has slept with a fair number of handsome effetes and a lot of rough working men, and Thomas combines the best of the two: extraordinarily handsome and well-groomed, yet powerful under his clothes. He curses himself for not having had photographs taken when he had the chance.

A second later, Thomas' weight bears him to the bed in an uncompromising grip. Philip automatically opens his legs, and is rewarded with the most wonderful erotic sensation he knows: another man's cock pressed against his. Thomas moans into his neck and moves his hips, rubbing their pricks between them. His arms are still tight around Philip.

Abruptly, he pulls himself away. Philip pushes himself up onto his elbows to watch that magnificent arse in action as Thomas strides over to the dresser and retrieves - of course - the little tub of Vaseline that would work so well for shaving cuts if he ever had them.

Philip considers rolling over, spreading his legs and letting Thomas have him like a dog. Thomas, having something of the wolf in him, would probably like that. But Philip intends to savour Thomas for the scant minutes he still has him. He smirks at Thomas when he turns around.

"Worked our way up to buggery at last, I see," he says lightly. It's true: they haven't done this before. In fact it's possible, going by Thomas' somewhat vague answers to personal questions, that he's never done this before, in which case Philip is determined to ruin him for all other men and take extra pleasure doing it.

Thomas, face set in a fierce, wounded snarl, simply climbs back onto the bed and sets to preparing him. Philip is unsurprised: he's happy to do it either way, but Thomas is the type to enjoy buggering his betters. His hair has come loose from its style, and Philip can't wait to sink his fingers into it in the throes of passion. His dark red erection hangs between his thighs and Philip concentrates on it as Thomas roughly works one finger into him. Honestly, he hardly needs the preparation by now, but Thomas' attempt at cruelty in consideration jostles him about deliciously. He lets out a high-pitched moan, and watches Thomas squeeze his thighs together.

Thomas jams another finger in, twisting them roughly, and gets a hoarse shout as Philip draws up his legs and wraps them around his waist. Face dark, he brings up his other hand to Philip's neck and squeezes it lightly - not throttling him, just letting him know that he could. In response, Philip claws at his back again, making Thomas jolt and shudder and screw up his face in pleasure. Philip can see his prick twitching against his stomach, and wants it in him.

"You asked for it," Thomas hisses, yanking out his fingers and dipping them back in the jelly. Yes I did, thinks Philip, watching him coat his erection with it, mouth dry with anticipation. Then Thomas shuffles further up the bed and presses the head to Philip's entrance and Philip lets his head fall back as the blunt, thick, unyielding pressure invades him. Thomas looms over him, fingers bruisingly tight around the back of his thigh to push it up, over his shoulder. Philip really isn't that flexible, but he won't give Thomas the satisfaction of seeing him wince.

" _God_ ," says Thomas. His eyes are shut.

"Yes," says Philip breathlessly, and digs his heels into his back to urge him on.

So Thomas makes love to him roughly, hands either side of Philip's head, hair hanging in his closed eyes. His red mouth is open as he pants harshly with every thrust. Philip moves with him, crying out at the feeling of being filled over and over again, of being fucked hard just how he likes it, his cock trapped between them. It spurs Thomas on to take him fast and deep, and Philip seizes his shoulders and claws wildly at his back, unable to contain himself.

Thomas starts to make the sweet sobbing moans that Philip found so erotic when he sucked him off that first night in London, and Philip wants so badly to kiss him. He leans up, seeking Thomas' mouth with his. Thomas loves to be kissed, but now he bares his teeth at Philip and keeps fucking him angrily. Philip pulls at Thomas' shoulders to get to his mouth, parting his lips beseechingly: he knows how Thomas enjoys being begged for kisses.

At last Thomas kisses him passionately and spitefully. He can't focus enough to give it any sort of finesse, just crushes their mouths together and laps desperately at Philip's tongue and bites at his lips, muffling his high-pitched whimpers of pleasure. What a shame that this is probably the last time they'll do this, when their bodies move together so perfectly.

Little tremors wrack both of them, until Thomas cries out with increasing urgency, hips moving erratically, and comes off inside Philip. Ideally, in a minute Thomas would be sucking him off until he saw stars, but under the circumstances Philip settles for taking himself in hand and stroking himself until he comes off too, shuddering and spasming around Thomas' cock.

Thomas slumps on top of him, deliciously heavy, and Philip wraps his arms around him, relishing how solid he feels, how young and handsome he is, how soft his hair is between Philip's fingers. He'll never be wanting for lovers; it was luck that Philip picked him up first by the simple expedient of groping him when Thomas was dressing him for dinner. His heartbreak will heal quickly.

But Philip only holds him for a moment until Thomas draws stiffly away from his embrace, shaking off the hand raking through his hair. He cleans himself off with Philip's handkerchief, left on the bedside table for this purpose, and dresses in silence. Philip lounges on the bed with Thomas' come leaking out of his arse and watches him pick up his clothing on shaky legs. What a beautiful man he's had to cut loose.

Thomas keeps his head down and doesn't look at Philip lying there debauched. Philip could say any number of things, could say _Going so soon?_ or _Get back over here and give us a kiss, for god's sake_ , or even _It's not that I don't love you, don't think that_. He lights a cigarette instead.

Ever dramatic, Thomas casts Philip one more wounded glance before he goes, raking his eyes over Philip's naked form. He might mean to appear dismissive, but he just looks hungry. He'd been virtually insatiable when they met - but then, so was Philip - and apparently even the keen sense of betrayal can't entirely dim his ardour. Philip draws up one leg so Thomas can see what he's done to him, already wanting Thomas to get back on the bed and bugger him again. Actually, he rather likes the idea of Thomas having him up against the wall...

But Thomas gives him a blazing, contemptuous stare, and leaves. The door shuts gently, but finally. Philip puts his cigarette back between his unkissed lips, and smokes it down in silence.


End file.
